Sitting in a Flat in London.
I'm sitting in a flat in London reminiscing about days gone by, and how I miss the the blond haired girl from San Francisco with those fiery eyes and cherry smile.
How we made love that night on the beach, our hands finding their way instead of light. I remember how our kisses mixed with the salt air and musk..... and when it was time for her to go, I lost my phone in the sand. I always took the damn thing with me, not wanting to miss anything important. But when I was with her, that's what was important....her smile was enough to communicate all that I had ever wanted to say. To anyone.
And her eyes. Have you ever been with someone who has the eyes of Persephone and how you feel them sweetly burn you? Thinking of the seasons past, I get up to turn off my phone (for no reason but to be closer to her) and I think, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
Remembering how the beach gate was locked when we tried to get out, me struggling to climb an iron fence, whilst she just lifted her wings, gently drifting over those piercing stakes of iron. And I'm woundering whether I'd be impaled on the way up, (or perhaps on the way down?) on those stalks, standing like a church, meant to either keep someone in or something out......but over I did get, (but not without tearing muscles in the process), muscles that still twinge in the Autumn chill when I think of her, these long years later....I even no do ask. Is it a tinge or an ache?....an ache to hold those arms once again, to touch and caress a body that loved to play in the nights damp air, or hands that tightly held mine in a Broadway theatre.....and now thinking, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
Today as the rain beats down, and the flowers in their vase are almost at an end, I have to move on. But the wind makes me think of the time we were under the Golden Gate watching ships gently enter the harbour, and the waves lapping at our feet, sea spraying our faces. Her licking the salt off my cheek......me holding her for warmth and she for strength. Or was it the other way around?
And I'm thinking, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
On Thursdays, walking to the Balboa Cafe, skipping out of mundane conference calls, meeting to sip Martini's with her. Entering the cafe in the late afternoon, seeing her waiting for me.....with those fiery eyes her cherry smile.
And I kissing her gently behind the ear, and her scent.......oh that smell.....You know she's been to the beach, walking amongst her thoughts, the seashells and the sky.....she smells of the Bay, and you lean over, compelled (or perhaps commanded) by the afternoons sun, as it caresses the Marina like the hands of a Mother bathing her child......oh to kiss her again, to touch the inside of her mouth.
But you don't.......you just touch her lips, breathing in, and the sea and her salt breathes in with you.....bottom lips touching, and mine finding they're way past her cheek to caress butterfly lashes......and I think.....how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
I'm sitting in front of an Autumns fire, watching the rain wash the streets of another city I call home, and I think.....how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
I'm sitting in a flat in London reminiscing about days gone by, and how I miss the the blond haired girl from San Francisco with those fiery eyes and cherry smile.
How we made love that night on the beach, our hands finding their way instead of light. I remember how our kisses mixed with the salt air and musk..... and when it was time for her to go, I lost my phone in the sand. I always took the damn thing with me, not wanting to miss anything important. But when I was with her, that's what was important....her smile was enough to communicate all that I had ever wanted to say. To anyone.
And her eyes. Have you ever been with someone who has the eyes of Persephone and how you feel them sweetly burn you? Thinking of the seasons past, I get up to turn off my phone (for no reason but to be closer to her) and I think, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
Remembering how the beach gate was locked when we tried to get out, me struggling to climb an iron fence, whilst she just lifted her wings, gently drifting over those piercing stakes of iron. And I'm woundering whether I'd be impaled on the way up, (or perhaps on the way down?) on those stalks, standing like a church, meant to either keep someone in or something out......but over I did get, (but not without tearing muscles in the process), muscles that still twinge in the Autumn chill when I think of her, these long years later....I even no do ask. Is it a tinge or an ache?....an ache to hold those arms once again, to touch and caress a body that loved to play in the nights damp air, or hands that tightly held mine in a Broadway theatre.....and now thinking, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
Today as the rain beats down, and the flowers in their vase are almost at an end, I have to move on. But the wind makes me think of the time we were under the Golden Gate watching ships gently enter the harbour, and the waves lapping at our feet, sea spraying our faces. Her licking the salt off my cheek......me holding her for warmth and she for strength. Or was it the other way around?
And I'm thinking, how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
On Thursdays, walking to the Balboa Cafe, skipping out of mundane conference calls, meeting to sip Martini's with her. Entering the cafe in the late afternoon, seeing her waiting for me.....with those fiery eyes her cherry smile.
And I kissing her gently behind the ear, and her scent.......oh that smell.....You know she's been to the beach, walking amongst her thoughts, the seashells and the sky.....she smells of the Bay, and you lean over, compelled (or perhaps commanded) by the afternoons sun, as it caresses the Marina like the hands of a Mother bathing her child......oh to kiss her again, to touch the inside of her mouth.
But you don't.......you just touch her lips, breathing in, and the sea and her salt breathes in with you.....bottom lips touching, and mine finding they're way past her cheek to caress butterfly lashes......and I think.....how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
I'm sitting in front of an Autumns fire, watching the rain wash the streets of another city I call home, and I think.....how you'd give all you've ever gathered for another taste of her mouth...sitting in a flat in London.
Thank you!